


The Love That Didn't Exist

by Rain_And_Sunflowers



Category: Watchmen (2009), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional pain, F/M, Gen, Goodbyes, Hurt, I was really into being a philosophical bitch, Love, OC, Philosophy, Rorschach Feels, breakup via death, female oc - Freeform, obscure relationship, oh god did I really write this, rorschach x reader, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rain_And_Sunflowers/pseuds/Rain_And_Sunflowers
Summary: In the last moment of their relationship, and his last moment on earth, two ponder over what they had. It's confusing, and all so painful.(Can be read  as an 'x reader', but the character came to me so I wrote her details in, no name)





	The Love That Didn't Exist

_Don’t love is not a rule._

It’s not a moral. It’s not an intention. Love in itself, was not a crime. And falling in love was not sin. But it felt _right_ to not do so, or, in some ways, it came _naturally_ to not do so. Life is black and white in this area. He didn’t need to love, he wasn’t going to. And that was life.

 

So what drove that mentality away? What, in mere seconds, changed a man, made of blood and violence and corruption. Made of a life embedded in changing, challenging and chasing. What caused this vast transformation in a heart that didn’t beat?

It was cold, and she felt that in her soul more than she did in her soaked shoes, or the frost in her hair. She was perfectly still, she was always still. That’s what she was best at; being still and observing the situation. And not getting involved. _Never_ get involved. Not even if it breaks her heart. And nothing had ever broken her heart.

But on _this_ cold evening, on this darn subzero ice-plain, she had never been so frozen in place, both physically and mentally. Only that signature silver hair caught in the wind made sure she wasn’t a statue. It was like her thoughts stopped altogether. Her tears would never fall onto the snow, yet they would, later, stream down her face for days on end. The hardest she had ever cried.

What would happen if their eyes met? Would he feel remorse, shame, betrayal....or nothing? Were they just that? Nothing?

But their eyes did meet, in the silence. When he stopped yelling. When they both knew his decision. There would be no compromise. There would be no living in this world, it could never be just for her. He had his views. He had changed them once, though even if not by choice. But he could not do so twice. And she hated and loved him even more in that moment. Because this was him. It was truth. A trait that she admired, but one that in the end, would be his demise. Of course, painfully, this would be his decision.

 

No one could see her. Only snow and the gust that picked it up. She never let people truly see her, she didn’t let them, yet there he was. There they were. The Observer, the Watcher, and the few seconds they had left of whatever _this_ was.

His eyes didn’t give her solace. Fact. She would remember the final look she got, in her own way, no matter of what he actually meant. The last glace, the one by which she would remember him. No sorry, no surprise. No emotion that meant anything but ‘What did you expect?’

And it fucking hurt.

Did Manhattan even notice where his victim was looking? Would he ever guess? Well, never, actually. She concluded in later years he was completely oblivious to her existence. Which should have been comforting. That was the bane of her existence; To be as if she never had.

But in place of comfort was anger. She wanted to grab the Doctor, shake him, scream in his face “He was mine, and you killed him. I’m not invisible to this.” But why would it matter, it’s not like this victim pleaded to live. He had a death wish. They both did. Yet one died. As if Juliet woke to find Romeo’s poisoned corpse, and decided to walk away.

She felt the violent rip of his soul being torn from the earth. No scream or pain. Just a harsh snap. Vaporization. And a bloodstain that she blocked from her memories. Not because it was gruesome, but because it was absolute, and truth. He was gone forever. Her last link to mankind. Her last source of empathy, love and trust. Her _only_ , source.

She lashed out with her vast rage in the most minimal ways. _Observe don’t interfere_. **Observe don’t interfere**. It wasn’t like anyone was keeping tabs on her, at times she wish someone did. Independence is a burden when lost. But this was her rule as much as it was his rule to never compromise. In black and white. This was her uncompromising promise to herself. She could not change the world.

Anything with the possibility of smashing without getting noticed, she would smash. Even into dust. She’d punch bricks, trees, rocks until she bled. Then more, and then more. She screamed into empty fields, into the ocean, or like any, into her pillows. Ear-splitting cries until her vocal chords basically tore themselves into nothing. She turned off her healing factor. She wanted the pain, the physical pain she was born into the world without. Because she was angry. She needed the pain because she was heartbroken, alone, and very, very hurt. Tantrums for months. It didn’t matter.

Was her job on Earth even worth it? What was life on this dumb hunk of rock floating in space?

 

It passed, like everything did. Like mist, it vanished. Did she make it like that, or was she made like that? Quick and fleeting feelings, or erasing to forget the pain? Only God knows.

He never liked the way he looked. He was ugly. It didn’t really matter, but then again, it did. The mask hid that. The mask was the real face. The mask was his true self. But then she saw through it. She managed to get under layers of self-protection, and saw someone much different. Much younger, confused and broken. Time passed. And unlikely, very private, friendship grew. When she carefully asked, never forced, him to take it off, it was as if she had never seen such a beautiful creature.

Slowly it lifted, past his neck, his chapped lips and crooked teeth, over the nose, and over the frightened, nervous eyes and messy red hair.

She surprised him with her wonder. The clarity her being brought to him. And when her palm brushed up against his cheek they realized how much they could be to one another. How important they were to one another.

Maybe she didn’t notice, maybe she didn’t read his mind, his final goodbye, when he reluctantly glanced her way in those final moments. In all fairness, if they had been closer from the start, from his exit, she might’ve even teleported him away. But that would’ve been risky in every way. He knew she didn’t want to be discovered, everyone would’ve seen them leave. He knew she would abandon her job, her role in this world, and help him run. She’d fight for him. Kill for him. If only he ran with her. Break his rules and she’ll break her’s.

He could change her more then she could him. In ways, she might’ve loved him more than he did her. But he still did. Love her. And she still did. Change him.

And there was no going back. This was the end of the line. And hopefully, she’d understand. She knew death so well, yet, he thought, not so much loss. He was never good at emotion, having or portraying it. He was more desperate in his face then he was in his mind. It was in ways, erratic, furious, and ever so calm at the night’s events. At least she will live on in later years. She will remember him. The real him.

Their eyes locked. She had never looked so fragile and innocent. Like a child, witnessing something too adult and tragic to understand. She knew so much about this world, and it’s people. What is to come, and what had already passed. But this time, she was watching an event so new to her. And she didn’t move one bit.

She, like usual, was letting things happen. So he tried to reach out. It was worth that much. Final thoughts, all for her.

“ _Thank you_ ” For making such an unbearable life, even for a few years, more bearable. Thank you for accepting me. For sharing as much of you, as much as I shared myself. Thank you, for loving the unlovable.

It was bright, for a moment. A moment no one blinked. And then, he was gone. And she was left to live with that. It was no one’s fault he died. Yet it was.

Now, did she ever hear that, his final goodbye? Truth be told, as much as she did refuse it, she knew. She always knew those where his words. Plain and clear in the night, in her mind, no matter the gale force winds. Yet stubborn, she didn’t want those words. She refused them. They might have not existed at all. But, in some ironic case, it’s not as if they were meant to exist.

To the world, she didn’t exist, he didn’t exist the way she knew him, and certainly, goodbyes where never invented. To the world, their love had never happened.

 

_Even though it did._

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me out of nowhere and I had to let it all flow out. I am not so sure of this OC, but I think over the past months I have pondered over this enough to write an actual story to deepen their story. We will see.
> 
> Hope this wasn't too confusing to read! I love me some 3am jagged and incomprehensible thought. Hand me that philosophy major!


End file.
